


mostly void, partially stars

by lesbianauriel



Category: The Bifrost Incident - The Mechanisms (Album)
Genre: Gen, Love Is Stored In The Lyfrassir, They/them Lyf, a lil bit of angst but not much, i just love lyf a whole lot okay, local semi-eldritch runaway tries to keep boredom at bay, man i dunno what i'm doing, no beta we die like the characters at the end of a mechs album, overuse of ellipses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:54:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24741895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianauriel/pseuds/lesbianauriel
Summary: The ship was a bit lonely, sure, but Lyf had ways of entertaining themself.or: five times Lyfrassir Edda tried to keep themself entertained, and one time they didn't need to.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 50





	mostly void, partially stars

**Author's Note:**

> oooookay so! i haven't written for this fandom before but man. man do i love One Former Inspector. i just sorta tossed all this out and did a very very brief proofread so i apologize for any typos

i.

The ship was small, but well-supplied. Lyfrassir's occasional stops planet-side on whatever floating sphere was nearby was enough to keep the ship running without too much issue, and - apart from the static, the nightmares, and the infernal, infinite _singing_ of the Bifrost- their biggest problem seemed to be ...

Well.

No one ever said being confined for months on end in a small transport ship was _exciting_ , even if they were the one to put themself in this situation.

Lyfrassir sighed, leaning back a bit in the pilot's chair, staring out into the abyss stretched before them. They were a few weeks into the latest leg of their never-ending flight from Yggdrasil, but they wouldn't have to stop for fuel or supplies anytime soon. Their mind drifted aimlessly, languidly grasping at a childhood memory or embarrassing teenage encounter with practiced caution. Their thoughts were slow and unhurried as they thought of home. It was still a sore-spot -- they doubted it ever _wouldn't_ be, but they could at least think of home without the cold, heavy feeling of guilt burning a hole in their chest. Still, when their thoughts lingered too long... They sighed to themself, sinking further into the ratty seat before forcing their legs to _work_ , dammit, and stand up.

They looked around the ship. There was a small pile of blankets that served as a bed tucked away into a corner, a very cramped bathroom that was barely big enough for them to stand in, and a small 'kitchen' -- an old-fashioned oven and stove next to a counter that had been covered by a small towel. They glanced at the stovetop. The various appliances were... archaic, to say the least, but they _were_ getting tired of eating room-temperature food. Lyf hummed in thought, before making the few steps over to the stove.

Dials and marks littered the thing, obviously some sort of settings. The marks were some sort of numbers, they guessed, but not any they were familiar with. They squinted, as if that would make the marks suddenly translate into the runes they knew. Back home, old-fashioned cooking was something only the Asgardians themselves could afford, the time and effort needed to properly prepare something just wasn't something the common person could spare. It became more common after the fall of the Old Order, but it was still something of a rarity, and Lyf had never so much as _seen_ a traditional set-up like this until they boarded the ship.

They reached and turned one of the dials at random. "That'll probably work," they said, shrugging before wandering over towards their supplies. They grabbed the bag that held their food, and began shifting through it. What would taste good heated? 

They searched for a good while, before the ships flashing emergency lights dragged them away from their search. Then came the distinct but faint smell of burning -- they glanced up, head swinging to where the stove was --

" _Shit._ " They abandoned the food, racing over to turn off the stove (at least, they _assumed_ it was turned off now) before it could set fire to the damn ship.

They stared forlornly at where the towel had begun to curl with the heat, flyaway strands turned into tiny embers. "Well," they said, frowning. "Could've been worse."

ii.

"Fifty-six jars of sill on the wall," they groaned, dragging their hands down their face. "Fifty-six jars of sill..."

It was easier to ignore the Calling when there was something else to listen to, even if it was their own voice. Even if it gave them a headache.

"Take one down, pass it around, fifty-five bottles of sill on the wall..."

iii.

The first time it happened, they fell out of their chair. One moment, they were sitting and staring off into the Void, the Call loud in their ears, and the next, they were on the floor.

The second time was almost on purpose. They sat in their chair, staring intently out the window, willing themself to phase through the chair like they had before. "Come on. If I'm going to be stuck with an eldritch abomination inside of me, I should at least get something to show for it."

A moment passed, and their shoulders slumped. "This is idiotic," they admitted, sinking down into their chair, the static in their mind roaring as always, when it suddenly grew _louder_ , and --

They groaned as they hit the floor. "A fucking _warning_ would be nice, at least!"

iv.

The radio of the ship ... left something to be desired. It picked up signals fine near systems, but Lyf tried not to spend too much time there. They left it on, just in case, the blaring static it emitted a welcome reprieve from the static in their own head.

The box itself was situated near the pilot's seat. Lyf spun in the old chair, wallowing and lamenting whatever petty thing annoyed them that day, stopping occasionally to fiddle uselessly with the nobs on the radio. It didn't do anything, but the cool metal felt nice under their fingers.

v.

They'd picked up the small sphere on the last planet they stopped on -- some vacation spot for the nose-turning hobnobs of the universe, filled with pasty Space Karens and their screaming children. The ball was _ridiculously_ overpriced and hideous to look at, patterned with tacky pink smiley-faces against a jarringly bright red background, and Lyfrassir loved it dearly. Naturally, they named it.

"I'm going to call you Von Raum," they told the ball, before bouncing it off the window. It smacked them in the face on the rebound. They sighed, fixing the ball with a half-hearted glare. "Already taking after your namesake, I see."

+1.

The static of the radio suddenly cut out. Lyf nearly jumped out of their skin when they heard a deep voice, thinking for a horrid moment that they weren't alone - until they realized the source of it. They were far from any systems, too far to actually pick up any signal, so how in Hel...?

The static cut in and out, but before long there was a steady signal. It seemed the voice on the radio was telling some sort of story, violins humming ominously behind his voice.

"... _where King Cole sat on his throne, looking all the more withered on its ivory bulk..._ "

Without fully realizing it, Lyfrassir made their way back to the pilot's seat. They sat down, glancing between the radio and the glass separating them from the cold. Maybe they'd see whatever was broadcasting this far into empty space. That's the only reason they sat there, still listening to the voice, even as it began to sing. Even as other nameless and oddly familiar voices joined the story.

It was to ensure there were no hostile ships around, of course. Not because they enjoyed the story the voices were weaving.

What felt like an eternity passed, and Lyf took a shuddering breath. They wiped at the technicolor tears, forcing their face into one of neutrality.

" _...No happy ending for a tale so old, laid in blood when the battle is done._ " There was a moment's silence. " _The end._ "

"Gods above." Lyf didn't sniffle. They did _not._ "That was ... That was really good."

" _Well, that was fucking depressing!_ " The nameless voice shouted.

"Depressing, too." They laughed, a small, somewhat bitter sound. Here they were, talking to a radio like a friend. Talk about _depressing._ Still, as they brought their knees up to curl into the chair, staring out across the void to the tiny pinpricks of starlight, they couldn't help the small part of them that hoped that there was another tale to be told.

**Author's Note:**

> after that they played the bifrost incident and lyfrassir got so mad they got technicolor rainbows all over their ship


End file.
